Somewhat Damaged
by BoobsMagee
Summary: What could *coughshouldcough* have happened when Sylar and Peter met in Mohinder's apartment that night. Sylar/Peter, PWP, One-shot.


TITLE: Somewhat Damaged

PAIRING: Sylar/Peter

RATING: NC-17

SUMMARY: What could *coughshouldcough* have happened when Sylar and Peter met in Mohinder's apartment that night. Sylar/Peter, PWP, One-shot.

A/N: A rewriting of the scene from the episode ".07%" from Season One. This is my first fanfic. Be gentle. I think you could call this AU since it kinda veers away from what actually happened in the show... wildly away... I did try to keep Sylar and Peter as in character as possible though, because Sylar's character is the sexiest thing ever created and Peter's character complements Sylar well. Yes, this is pretty much just Sylar-worship. There is some violence in this and some stuff that could be considered BDSM. Also graphic sex and profanity. And since this is two dudes... you can guess what kind of sex it is.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of these things and I make no money from this. Just a nerd and a pervert.

* * *

><p>Peter saw Mohinder pinned to the ceiling of the apartment, half-conscious and dripping blood, and had barely time enough to gasp before he was slammed up against the wall by an invisible force.<p>

Sylar stood before him, eyes black with desire. "I know you," he murmured as he reached one hand out to brush against the side of Peter's face. Peter shuddered away from the touch. Sylar smiled, cupped Peter's chin and turned Peter's head back towards him.

Peter's dark hair hung in front of his face, his dark eyes wide open with fear. His teeth were bared at Sylar. His breathing was shallow. Sylar could hear his heart pounding on his ribcage. He tilted his head slightly, still smiling, eyes locked on Peter's.

"You're like me," he said so softly that the words were little more than breaths.

And then suddenly he found himself thrown across the room, pinned to the wall just like Peter, eyes wide as Peter's feet met the floor again. Peter's eyes were still wide but there was no fear in them now - Sylar saw anger there.

"I'm not like you," Peter growled as he drew himself up, pushing his shoulders back and his chest forward. He straightened his black coat and glared at Sylar from under the hair that still hung stubbornly in his eyes.

Sylar watched him interestedly from his position on the wall. _He's really quite pretty._

_And the tough guy act is kind of adorable._

Sylar let his eyes sweep over Peter's leanly muscled frame. When his eyes rose to Peter's again they were no more than a foot apart. Sylar's heart began to beat faster.

"I'm not going to let you get away with this anymore," Peter said in a low voice. Peter's eyes flickered between Sylar's eyes and lips and noticing this, Sylar smirked.

"You like this, don't you," said Sylar in an even lower voice, eyeing Peter's mouth. "Throwing me up against a wall... makes you feel powerful, doesn't it?"

Invisible fingers clamped around his throat and squeezed. Sylar let out a choked laugh. "Mmm, such power," he laughed, eyes shut and head thrown back.

Then he fell to the floor. Peter grabbed the collar of his shirt and shoved him back up onto the wall. "What the hell is it with you?" he spat.

Peter was suddenly flung backwards onto Mohinder's table. He heard a whooshing sound before he felt four long knives bury themselves in his wrists and ankles. He screamed in pain and tried to roll off the table but the knives held him there.

He froze when he heard Sylar laughing softly. "If you want to play rough... so be it." Sylar's voice sent shivers down Peter's spine. Peter tried to pull the knives out with his borrowed telekinesis. He pushed at them mentally, pushed with all his might but it was no use; Sylar had much better control of this power. And Sylar did not want him to move.

He heard Sylar's footsteps approaching and turned his head towards them. He saw only Sylar's outline, the rest obscured by shadow. Peter twisted his head around to see Mohinder still hanging from the ceiling, immobile. He turned back to see Sylar standing directly beside him and gave a startled cry.

"He likes to think he has everything under control," whispered Sylar. When Peter only gave him a confused look, Sylar smiled slightly and turned his gaze up towards Mohinder. "Until people like me come along. His father..." Sylar's eyes lowered again and his fingers ran over the handle of the knife that jutted out of Peter's left wrist, "... was not much different. He tried to use me... tried to control me... and then his son went and made the same mistake." Sylar raised his hand and with a subtle flick of his wrist sent the knife flying out of Peter's wrist and into Mohinder's chest. Mohinder only gasped, opened his mouth wide in a silent scream, and the light in his eyes flickered and slowly went out as the life left his body. He hung limply from the ceiling.

For a moment Peter merely stared at Mohinder's dead body in horror, and then he realized that one of his wrists had been freed. He looked at it, saw that it had already healed, flexed his fingers... but before he could do anything else, Sylar's long fingers had wrapped around his wrist, holding it gently as Sylar's thumb brushed the spot where the knife had been.

This frightened Peter more than anything else Sylar had done so far.

Sylar did not look at Peter's face, only studied the inside of his wrist; Sylar's dark eyes were heavy-lidded, his full lips parted, showing sharp teeth. His gaze was hungry.

"But you..." Sylar's words really were breaths now as he raised his eyes to meet Peter's. "You're something else, aren't you?"

Peter stared at him, speechless and terrified.

"You're like me," Sylar said again, grinning wide and baring his teeth at Peter. He still held Peter's wrist in his gentle grip. Peter looked from Sylar's eyes to Sylar's hand, the delicate-looking fingers which held so much more power than the eye could see. Sylar laughed, a warm bubbling laugh that rose from his stomach.

"Powerful," he murmured. "And utterly beautiful..."

Peter watched Sylar's fingers climb up his hand like the legs of a great pale spider, watched Sylar's fingers lace into his, felt the warmth radiating from Sylar's touch spreading down his arm through his chest through his entire body. His heart raced and he knew he should be tearing his hand away from Sylar's, pushing Sylar away, running from this place. But he couldn't. And this time it wasn't Sylar holding him here.

"Mmm, what's the matter? Where's all that bravado you came in with? Aren't you going to try to throw me out the window," Sylar said softly. "Put one of these knives through my chest? Or are you done pretending that you don't want this?"

Sylar swung himself up onto the table, planting his knees beside Peter's hips, straddling him. Peter drew in a sharp breath, eyes taking in Sylar's body above his. Sylar's thin chest heaved beneath the black shirt he wore. Peter could see small but unmistakable blood stains on it. Peter looked down and noticed that Sylar's shirt and undershirt had lifted away from the waistband of his jeans, revealing a strip of pale stomach, a trail of dark hair running down and disappearing under his jeans.

Peter summoned up the strength to lift his gaze to Sylar's. When he did he felt the wind knocked out of him again; Sylar's face was only inches away from his own. For the first time he realized just how much bigger Sylar was. Taller, yes... but not just taller than Peter. His face was longer, his features huge, eyes like great black lakes.

Again Peter found his eyes slipping down to Sylar's mouth. Sylar's full lips which were now barely more than an inch from his own. And moving closer.

Peter closed his eyes. He shouldn't want this... his brain was screaming at him to _stop_ this, get _away_ from here, get _away_ from _Sylar_... he could smell Sylar's scent... he wanted to know what Sylar tasted like...

Sylar's lips met his and Peter moaned. _Fuck it_. He kissed back hungrily, opened his mouth as Sylar opened his, tangled his tongue with Sylar's, groaned into Sylar's mouth and shivered when Sylar groaned back.

The knife was torn out of his right wrist and Sylar's other hand laced into that one as well, sending more warmth through Peter's body. Sylar tilted his head, deepening the kiss, and he pressed his body down against Peter's. Peter could feel him through his jeans, could feel how hard he was, how _big_ he was. Pinned as he was to the table by Sylar's hands and Mohinder's knives, he couldn't move much but he pushed up against Sylar the best he could, letting Sylar feel him. Sylar made a sound of pure wicked pleasure, grinning into their kiss.

Never before had Peter felt anything like this, _wanted_ anybody like this, and never had he thought he'd be doing anything like this with somebody like Sylar, but he realized now that Sylar was right; there was something between them, something that Peter had mistaken for animosity, something that drove them to each other and heated their blood when they were near each other... they _belonged_ together. The realization hit Peter like a tidal wave and he gripped Sylar's hands in his, digging his fingernails into them. Sylar pulled his face away from Peter's, hissing through his teeth.

"You like that?" Peter whispered with a smile. "Being hurt... does it feel as good being on the receiving end?"

Sylar laughed wildly. "God, you have no idea." He suddenly sat straight up, pressing his crotch firmly against Peter's. He took his hands out of Peter's, reached behind him and then ripped the knives out of Peter's ankles. Peter cried out sharply, bucking against Sylar.

Sylar threw the knives away and looked down at Peter. Powerful as he was, he looked so vulnerable; like a wounded wild animal, held captive for so long that he'd forgotten what he was... and what he was capable of. Sylar wanted to know. Wanted to _see_.

He smiled and trailed one finger down Peter's neck. Peter's eyes lifted open slightly, watching Sylar lazily.

Sylar's finger traveled along the collar of Peter's shirt and his eyes followed it, contemplating it, as Peter watched him intently.

Sylar hooked his finger under Peter's shirt collar and brought his eyes up to Peter's. With one quick motion he sliced his finger down the front of Peter's shirt, tearing it open as though it was tissue paper. He smiled wider at Peter's gasp, heard Peter's pulse thundering in his ears. He pushed Peter's shirt away from his chest, pressing his hands flat against the other man's torso, feeling the delicate muscles beneath. He rubbed his thumbs slowly over Peter's nipples and Peter arched his back, biting his lower lip and whining at the touch. Peter's cock throbbed against his and Sylar whined as well, pushing his hips forward to meet Peter's hardness with his own.

Peter's hands suddenly flew up and tore Sylar's shirt and undershirt off, sending Sylar's pulse into a frenzy. Peter slid his hands down Sylar's sides, marveling at the softness of his skin, gripping Sylar's narrow hips and pulling him down as he thrust upwards. Sylar threw his head back and moaned. Peter had never seen anything more beautiful.

He pulled Sylar down into a frantic kiss, sliding one hand up into Sylar's hair and the other hand down Sylar's stomach and under his jeans. Sylar bucked forward into his hand, growling into Peter's mouth. He kissed a path from Peter's mouth to his ear, pulling Peter's earlobe between his teeth, biting down hard. "Fuck," Peter hissed. He reached his other hand down to unbutton Sylar's jeans but before he could do this Sylar had ripped them off impatiently and cast them to the floor. He leaned up so that his mouth hovered above Peter's, breathing rapidly.

He trembled as he settled himself between Peter's legs, lifting them up so that his knees were at the level of Sylar's shoulders. Peter began to tremble as well. He had never done this before... and he got the feeling that Sylar hadn't either... he looked down between them, following the trail of dark hair that ran down Sylar's stomach to where it grew thick around the base of Sylar's cock. It was big... much bigger than Peter's. Peter looked apprehensively back up into Sylar's eyes.

He saw apprehension there too, and he leaned up to rub his nose against Sylar's, nuzzling his face. Sylar let out a shaky breath, then turned his face so that their lips met again, this time in a much softer kiss. Peter ran the backs of his fingers along Sylar's stubbled cheek. When they broke the kiss, Sylar hovered there above him again, uncertain for a moment, before leaning up to remove Peter's pants.

Sylar laid back down between Peter's legs with Peter's knees hooked over his shoulders. He leaned down towards Peter's mouth again and this time as they kissed Sylar rocked forward, pressing his erection against Peter's ass. Both men moaned at this sensation that was completely new to them. Then suddenly Sylar was lining up to push inside and Peter cried out.

"No, Sylar!" Sylar froze, panting against Peter's mouth, and he furrowed his brow as he looked into Peter's eyes.

"What? What is it?"

"You... you can't just..." Peter sighed and looked down. "It's going to hurt... _way_ too much... like that. We need... here, spit." Peter held up his hand in front of Sylar's face. Sylar's brow furrowed even more deeply for a moment, and then he leaned forward and spat into Peter's hand. Peter smiled a little at the half-disgusted look on his face.

Peter reached his hand down between them to wrap it around Sylar's cock, drawing a choked gasp from Sylar. Sylar whimpered as Peter started to slide his hand up and down, coating Sylar with his own saliva. When he was satisfied that Sylar was well-lubricated, he pulled his hand back and Sylar groaned in disappointment.

Sylar lined himself up again, looking into Peter's eyes questioningly. When Peter answered the silent question with a soft kiss, Sylar began to push inside.

He went slowly at first, pushing forward an inch and pulling back out. Peter gripped Sylar's shoulders, riding out the pain. Another inch forward, then back out, then another inch, pushing steadily deeper. Peter moaned with each thrust and Sylar could only gasp. When he was fully inside Peter he started to thrust into him harder, faster.

His hands gripped the sides of the table as his hips snapped forwards at a frantic pace. Peter was screaming his name now. He leaned up, grinning triumphantly, watching Peter writhe beneath him. But this... this wasn't enough.

He leaned back down so that his mouth was against Peter's ear. "You're all _mine_," he breathed. "All. Fucking. _Mine_."

With that last word he pinned Peter's shoulders down, wrapped invisible fingers around Peter's cock and started pumping. Peter shuddered beneath him and a long moan tore out of his throat as he came. Sylar buried his face in Peter's neck, feeling Peter's muscles contract around him, and he came inside of Peter with a strangled cry.

For a long while they laid there like that, curled into each other and breathing hard, the waves of their orgasms still crashing through them.

Then Sylar lifted his head slightly, nuzzling the side of Peter's face. "Hey... what's your name anyway?"

Peter started laughing hysterically. "You serious? You don't know my name?"

"How the fuck am I supposed to know that, the only other time I met you I was throwing lockers at you and then you fell off those bleachers and died. Kind of," Sylar amended. "And then I got caught by Primatech. No time for conversation."

Peter glanced up at Mohinder's body hanging from the ceiling. He remembered the first time he'd met Sylar... Sylar had tried to kill Claire but had killed her friend instead thinking it was her... the realization that he had just had sex with the man who had tried to murder Claire and had succeeded in murdering many others suddenly hit him and for a moment he felt sick.

_What the hell have I done?_

Peter shut his eyes and sighed. Sylar lifted himself up and looked down at Peter, frowning. "Um... you okay?"

"Not exactly," Peter muttered.

Sylar narrowed his eyes, surveying Peter's expression. Then he smirked. "You think I'm a monster... and that makes you sick for having sex with me?"

Peter determinedly avoided his gaze.

"It's easy for people to label me a monster... and forget that I'm human," Sylar murmured. Peter considered this statement and looked up at Sylar. "I have my flaws." At this Peter raised an incredulous eyebrow. "But so does everyone else... and I have feelings like everyone else... pain... loneliness... love."

Peter looked into the other man's eyes. He saw at first the killer that everyone else feared and hated... but under that surface was a human being, no more a monster than himself or anyone else. A man... a fucked-up, frightened, fragile and truly beautiful man.

Peter sighed again. Sylar's big dark eyes still watched his. "I guess we're both just a little fucked," whispered Peter as he brought one hand up to brush against the side of Sylar's face. Sylar smiled and touched his nose to Peter's, closing his eyes. Peter smiled at the obvious affection in the gesture.

"So what's your name then?" Sylar purred at Peter's mouth. "Don't make me torture it out of you..."

The younger man laughed. "It's Peter... although I guess torturing it out of me would have been more fun for you, right?"

"I think we may just be beginning to understand each other at last, Peter."

* * *

><p>Boobs Magee here saying if you liked what you read you should let me know about it! ;)<p> 


End file.
